


The Way You Do The Things You Do

by Dark_Eyed_Panda, Umehana



Series: Biking in Florida [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A Teensy Bit Cracky, Another Bachelor Party Because Why Not, Attempt at Humor, Bad Flirting, Bill Denbrough Cries Prettily, Boywonder Bill, Fortune Telling, Hypnotism, I wish I could say I was drunk when I wrote this, M/M, No Seriously It's Pure Crack, Pick-Up Lines should come with a license, Random Trelawney Quotes, Song fic that kinda got out of hand, Temporary Loss of Memory, What Was I Thinking?, failed, tomfoolery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Eyed_Panda/pseuds/Dark_Eyed_Panda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umehana/pseuds/Umehana
Summary: Bill and Mike are getting married tomorrow.So now it's Richie's job to make this bachelor party the best and weirdest evening that Bill ever had the (dis)pleasure to live through, or so he thinks.That includes taking Bill to some random fortune teller, letting her hypnotize him and then getting as drunk as possible.Fantastic idea, right?! What couldpossiblygo wrong?





	1. Look At Your Man.

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings**: Crack and pure stupidity. I wanna say I'm sorry, but I'm really not :D  
Somehow I just wanted to write a song fic for the absolute perfection that is "The way you do the things you do" by The Temptations. For everyone who doesn't know this, it's the song played in the Romantic Bike Montage™ in the original series from 1990.  
Seriously, if you haven't watched it yet, do it. It's the cutest shit ever!
> 
> All the love to my wonderful co-creator Dark_Eyed_Panda for beta-reading (and actually liking) this mess, love you 3000!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie has a brilliant plan for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**: Richie's plan is stupid.

“Richie? Are you - are you really sure about this?”

‘This’ being a small house Bill and Richie were presently standing in front of. There was nothing about the house itself that would raise question - sure, it had seen the best of years already, the paint on the window and door frame was chipping, but otherwise it seemed perfectly normal.

The only thing extraordinary was the sign that accompanied the doorbell with the name **Mystic Maggie** written on it in big illustrious letters. The name and symbols surrounding it were actually speaking for themselves, but in case the person viewing it was especially dim-witted, someone had made sure to put **Mistress of Divination, Hypnotism and the Occult** on the plaque as well. 

“Seems like a perfectly respectable establishment to me. Even though I know you must mistrust every _ establishment _ after that brick of a book you last wrote, eh?” Richie quipped, “Who wouldn’t want to know their fuuuture and fortune?” he sing-songed.

Bill still regarded him with one eyebrow raised. As if he, the famous author William Denbrough, would ever use a word like _respectable_ to describe someone who bore the name Mystic Maggie. And he _certainly_ didn’t believe in fortune telling. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at his friend who seemed delighted by this old house and the promise of an obscure evening.

Why had he even agreed to let Richie be his best man? 

Right, he hadn’t been asked. Not _ really _ at least. 

Had it been up to him, they would have celebrated their bachelor party like they had done Eddie and Richie’s: Sitting comfortably together around a table, properly drunk by midnight, laughing and spouting nonsense as long as possible until their eyes gave in to the exhaustion that was social life. But then Richie came up with his _ brilliant _ idea of keeping the party traditional and thus entertaining the future couple separately. Because “You're gonna stick to each other like, until the end of your life! You gotta enjoy your last night of freedom and uncle Rich _ will _take care of that!” 

It did not help that a slightly drunk Eddie thought the idea was great. It _ certainly _ did not help that after a bit of arguing about who should be the best man to whom, they tipsily decided to solve the matter using rock-paper-scissors. Because that’s what proper adults do.

Bill had thought it funny back then and buried his sniggering into Mike’s shoulder, the latter shooting him an exasperated grin when Eddie started flailing his arms about and accusing Richie of cheating because “_ How dare you use Spock! _”

Mike. Bill still couldn’t believe his luck. Not only was Mike one of his Losers, the very people he trusted the most; he was also funny and charming and caring and incredibly handsome and _ his _ . Bill had been the one to propose, hiding his message carefully between the lines of that dedication page. But the night he'd first given Mike his newest book - the pages still warm from the printing press or had it been the heat of his sweaty palms? - he'd almost, _ almost _ feared that Mike wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t see through that ending and the heavy implication it bore. 

Only a moment later he had laughed at his own stupidity. As if Mike, smart, _ wonderful _ Mike, Mike who had been solving mysteries for 27 years, wouldn’t get as simple a riddle as that. 

Still, he'd been more nervous than ever when he'd sat down at his working desk, the ticking sound of the clock grating on his ear, knowing that Mike was in the other room, his book and heart and promise in hand. 

He'd found it a few hours later on his own nightstand, carefully arranged next to his water glass with a pencil next to it. A message bearing the answer he'd desperately wanted to know, but at the same time had been too afraid to learn.

With fumbling fingers he had picked it up and skimmed through the pages, almost instantly finding the two little words written in pencil. 

_ I will. _

He'd stared at it. Only five letters, but it felt heavier than anything Bill had ever written. He'd stared down at the copy of _ The Establishment _ and it had suddenly been the weight of Mike's heart, Mike's promise in his hands. He'd stared at the neat cursive handwriting, too many emotions tumbling through his head, unable to decide on which one to act. 

Mike had returned to their bedroom seconds later, and when Bill had heard his footsteps, his breath, his heartbeat, all he needed had been one look at him and the overwhelming sense of relief, panic and happiness had sent him bawling. 

Mike had pulled him close, that unbelievably soft expression in his eyes, cradled him against his chest like a child and pressed kisses to the top of his head, until his tears had given way to giddy laughter bubbling in his chest. They'd exchanged kisses and whispers and - 

Blushing he ducked his head, hoping that Richie wouldn’t notice his burning face and tease him about thinking of inappropriate things in the middle of the street. But there was apparently no need to worry, because Richie had been busy peeking through the patterned curtains the whole time. What he hoped to see was beyond Bill, but before he could ask, the door flew open.

There was a rather stout and short woman standing in the doorway, countless bangles jingling at her arms, and she bid them to enter with sweeping gestures. 

She looked exactly like Bill would've imagined a fortune teller to look. He didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign. 

Richie, unashamed as ever, hopped away from the window as if he hadn’t just been caught peeping. He stepped forward and heartily shook her hand. 

“Hi ma’am, I’m Richie Tozier, this is my friend Bill Denbrough. Sorry, we are a bit early, our appointment was at 8?” 

“Yes, Mr. Tozier, I know. I saw you coming, you and your friend,” she replied vaguely, even her voice sounding exactly like Bill had expected, old and deep and smoky, “You may call me Madame Maggie or Mystic Maggie, if you’d like.”

They followed her into a small corridor where the walls were plastered with moon calendars, chakra systems and astrology notes. Richie seemed to be positively skipping at the prospect of catching a glimpse on Bills future, if only for blackmail material.

Bill smiled at himself. If it made his friend this giddy, it couldn’t be that bad, now could it?

They entered a small sitting room, decorated much like the corridor, only with more herbs dangling from the ceiling and gemstones lying on every surface. He even spotted two cats on the sofa, a little black one and a tabby, blending in as though they were cushions as well, lazily flicking their tails back and forth.

There was a heavy scent in the air, probably some burned herb or, what were they called, incense sticks? Either way, it made Bills thoughts foggy, so he was relieved when Mystic Maggie told them to sit down. He plopped on the sofa next to the tabby that merely blinked at him once with its big yellow eyes.

Richie had chosen a big comfy chair and was now attempting to fold his abnormally long legs under the small coffee table between. He knocked against it, nearly sending a big crystal ball on top of it flying. Cursing silently, he caught the ball mid-air and set it back on the table, as if hoping the fortune teller who was busy lighting candles all around the room wouldn’t notice. 

Bill bit back a laugh, laid back against the cushions and started to pet the tabby. It seemed unimpressed, but graciously let it happen. His gaze wandered around the room, taking in all the posters and knick-knacks scattered around. The sound of Madame Maggie's voice brought him back.

“So, gentlemen, you sought me in my humble abode to hear about your future?” She handed both of them a cup of _ something_, certainly not coffee, Bill noticed sadly, and they politely took a nip before setting the cups down on the table. 

“Actually I’m only being moral support,” Richie grinned, “My friend Billy here’s getting married tomorrow and we thought it would be most insightful to, you know, consult someone with a broader mind and knowledge before his big day,” he finished his sentence ominously and winked at Bill, who felt the dire need to slam his head into something hard. But then the cloudy blue eyes of Madame Maggie trailed over to him and he collected himself.

“Uh, yeah - some-something like that,” he nodded. Richie gave him two thumbs up when Madame Maggie turned to light the last candle. He drew away his gaze and focused on a picture across the room instead. It seemed to have two colored hands on it; Bill wasn’t really sure since he forgot to bring his glasses. Madame Maggie sat down and smiled at him.

“Oh, I see you’re interested in chiromancy,” she noted. 

Bill nodded and decided to simply go along with it. 

“The art of palm reading is one of the oldest practices of my kind. Foretelling the future, studying the past! All there, written in your own hand!” She grabbed his hands, studying both palms intently, then deciding on the right. 

“I am of course correct to say that this is your dominant hand?” Bill nodded again. “Ah, I see, then this is the hand that is mostly preferred to be read; it is also the hand that shows what you've accumulated throughout your life already, my dear. The other one in respect shows what you were born with.”

She fixed her gaze on his hand again and traced one line with her index finger. “Look at this, this is the fate line. That’s very interesting - it is a very deep but short line. So you were strongly controlled by fate, but are now free to follow other aspirations. How nice!” 

Richie leant forward to also catch a glimpse of Bill’s hands that slowly but surely started sweating. 

“Oh, and your lifeline - don’t worry, my dear, the length isn’t actually representing your lifespan - is nice and swooping, that means you have a strong mind and resilience. My, my, aren’t you a creative one!” Bill nervously smiled at her when she pointed at yet another line she called the head line. 

Beside him, Richie nodded enthusiastically and then asked, “Ma’am, do you see anything about _ love _?”

Bill glared at him. Richie shrugged smugly. Madame Maggie didn’t seem to notice.

“Ah yes, of course that would be the most interesting thing for a husband-to-be. Here, your heart line begins below the index finger, you must be quite content with your love life!” 

Bill felt his face heat up. Richie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Madame Maggie kept on studying his hand.

“But there are also two smaller lines crossing through your heart line, normally that means emotional trauma or the ending of a relationship. Don’t look so worried, dear, they are quite close to the beginning and should have passed already.”

Bill didn’t know why he felt relieved hearing that. Fortune tellers just came up with general facts to make their theories believable, didn't they? They're good at reading people's reactions and could land some lucky guesses, that's all. He didn’t believe in things like that.

But Madame Maggie was somehow different. Everything she had stated so far sounded very accurate if he thought about it. 

He frowned. If he really was to believe in psychics, he wanted something more substantial. 

“Excuse me, but could you tell me something more about the nearer future and my marriage, something like…” He trailed off, looking at Richie who mouthed “sex life” to him, “Um, _ family _perhaps?”

Next to him, Richie rolled his eyes and facepalmed.

Madame Maggie’s eyes twinkled and she raised his hand up again. “Well,” she said, “there is not much explicitly stated in the palm, but you do have a high Venus mount, the one under your thumb, and that indicate a great interest in family matters. But if you’d like I could consult my other instruments to help you find more tangible answers for that question.”

“Yes, I think I’d like that,” said Bill.

He wasn’t sure if he would in fact like that. 

Mystic Maggie didn’t seem to take any notice. She simply instructed Bill to take one of her hands and not let go of it while she started to wave the other around her crystal ball in broad motions. “Now, gentlemen, if you were both so kind to close your eyes and concentrate on the fleeting form of the future. The truth lies buried like a sentence deep within a book, waiting to be read. But first, you must broaden your minds. First, you must look - beyond!”

Bill, having a bit of a queasy feeling in his stomach, saw Richie contently leaning back and closing his eyes, so he followed his example. It seemed that the scent got stronger once he started concentrating on his other senses. The jingling of Madame Maggie’s jewelry was sometimes getting louder, sometimes going distant and Bill sleepily realized that he was very close to dozing off if he didn’t concentrate on the task at hand. 

Right, concentration. On the future. Piece of cake. The image of Mike came to him and he knew he had immediately started smiling. Of course it was the most simple and natural thing to picture the man he was going to marry. Madame Maggie’s bangles started chiming.

“Oh, this is nice,” her voice sounded distant and calming, “I didn’t know you were going to marry such a handsome young man!” 

Bill found himself instantly blushing. _ How did she know that he was going to marry a man? _ They never mentioned it. And it’s not on his wikipedia site, that’s for sure. 

He nodded and asked, “Is there… Is everything alright? With us, I mean.”

“Oh yes, my dear. You have endured hardship together and your trust in each other is boundless. You share dreams and aspirations and a strong bond that goes beyond simple attraction. You are more than alright, so don't worry.”

Bill was glad, he really was. Sitting in this warm room, not seeing, but being able to feel his partner somehow gave him a sudden and intense longing to be with him, the sooner the better. He lost himself in his thoughts, only to be roused when he heard distant snoring. 

Richie had fallen asleep. 

Bill made indications to stand up, but his eyes wouldn’t open and the cushions had an almost magical pull.

“Be still, my boy, you will see each other again very soon. You’ve asked about family, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Bill managed to say, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

“I see that you harbor a lot of fear,” she paused, “There is something about family of which you just can’t let go. There is loss. Oh yes, there is. I’m sorry that you had to endure that, dear.” He felt her other hand gently petting his knee, “Though there is comfort I can bring you. You don’t need to worry so much, I assure you. You are not an unlucky man. You have a man that loves you and I’m quite certain you will get what your heart desires most if you only allow it to happen.”

Bill’s mouth went dry and there was a lump forming in his throat. His hand tightened in Madame Maggie’s grasp. That spark of hope in him that his pessimistic side had never been able to quench before was starting to light up. The hope that his dreams were not just mocking one of his deepest wishes when they filled his ears with children’s laughter and he awoke feeling chubby small hands patting his cheeks and hair.

“One, no two of them, I think.” The older woman’s voice softly continued, “Oh, how wonderful. And what beauties.”

Bill felt tears prickle in his eyes. He wasn’t used to being so vulnerable in front of strangers. He wasn’t used to believing anything that wasn’t logical to him and yet he found himself _ wanting _ to believe, even if it everyone would think it's stupid. Hell, even if _ he _ thought it was stupid. His mind slowly started turning again, as if coming out of a deep trance. The small hand of Madame Maggie’s gently squeezed his, indicating that it was alright to let go now.

He opened his eyes. The room was spinning a bit and his vision was slightly clouded. Rubbing at his eyes, his feet found Richie’s legs under the table and he kicked him lightly. 

Richie woke with a jolt, hitting his shins on the low table again and sent the crystal ball flying for the second time this evening - this time for real. The globe connected to the floor with a soft ‘thunk’ and Bill silently thanked whatever higher power for the thick rug covering the sitting area. Richie confusedly shook his head, spotted the crystal ball and handed it back to a slightly stunned Madame Maggie.

“Oh sorry ‘bout that!” He said with his most charming school boy grin, “Must have dozed off. It really is too cozy in here, Madame! Lucky me, that ball is really a sturdy old thing.”

The fortune teller blinked a few times, then seemed to regain her composure. She set the crystal ball back on its stand and refilled her teacup after both Richie and Bill had politely declined. Her eyes fixed on Bill over the rim of her cup. He smiled a bit sheepishly and turned to his clumsy friend.

“Rich, you just about missed the most interesting part,” Bill said.

“Oh, were you finally asking about your sex life?” Richie blurted out, then frowned and added, “No, I wouldn’t have missed _ that _.”

Bill rolled his eyes at him and made an attempt to stand up, but little claws held him firmly in place. The tabby that had buried its paws in Bill’s trousers looked entirely too pleased with itself.

“Oh my, Victor has taken a liking to you, hasn’t he? Normally he doesn’t get along with anyone but Igor,” Mystic Maggie beamed at both her cats, the little black one and Victor who seemingly had the fun of his life clawing into Bill’s leg, “You don’t want to go so soon, do you?”

“I-I’m afraid, Ma’am, we have to,” said Bill and tried to very gently remove Victor’s vicious claws. 

“Yeah!” Richie agreed. He stood up enthusiastically, missing the table yet again by just a few centimeters., “It’s you last night of freedom after all and the fun’s just beginning! We gotta drink you under the table, boy!”

“Uh, Rich? I’d actually rather just g-go home and tell Mike ’bout y’know, some stuff,” Bill mumbled. The trance from before had already left him, but the overwhelming urge to see Mike was still there. He couldn’t imagine waiting the whole night until he'd see him again.

“But the _ booze _ ! No way I’d let you waste such a perfect opportunity to get your first _ real _ hangover, you _ wonk _!” Richie exclaimed, “Even if you want to go home, which I’m not letting you - I’m always up for some good old-fashioned kidnapping - your Mikey is also out drinking, Billy Boy. You thought about that?”

Bill hadn’t. Mike was probably in some bar drinking with Eddie right now. Still, he didn’t want to budge. His mood was set for the night.

“Ugh, I just wished you forgot about the whole ordeal. Forget everyone and just have a bit _ fun _, you know, like when we were in college.”

Bill sighed, “We didn’t even know we existed b-back in college, Richie.”

Richie’s eyes started gleaming devilishly. 

Bill swallowed. That look had never been good news. _ Never _. 

“Big Bill, you are a _ genius _!” He exclaimed and pointed at Bill gleefully, “You just have to forget us! Well not me, obviously, because you need someone to watch you, you lightweight. But at least Mike, oh, and Eds because he’ll remind you of Mike. And Ben and Bev too, just in case.”

“Um, and _ how _ exactly are you going to make me forget them?”

“Oh, I’m not gonna,” said Richie and, after a dramatic pause, turned to Madame Maggie, who had been sipping her tea innocently the whole time. 

“But _ she _will.”

Bill took a deep breath and fought the craving to massage his temples, a habit he had seemingly only developed when he was around Richie. Then he remembered the sign next to the front door.

“Mistress of Divination, Hypnotism and the Occult”. 

_ Hypnotism _. 

Oh. 

He looked at the older woman, who’d been listening attentively and still sipping her tea. “Could you, I mean, could you r-really do that?”

She smiled warmly at him, “If you were willing, of course, my dear. It would wear off in a few hours. Repressing memories is quite the undertaking, but possible nonetheless.”

Bill thought about it in his still drunken state and, following the sudden impulse, said, “Okay.”

He’s _ so _ gonna regret this, he thought the moment that word left his lips.

Richie grinned broadly, the way he did every time one of his crazy ideas was actually being put into practice, which Eddie mostly prevented.

Well, at least when he wasn’t tipsy and thought his husband was being hilarious, otherwise they wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. Bill sighed internally.

Madame Maggie placed saucer and cup back on the low table, her bracelets jingling again. She smiled reassuringly at Bill before standing up and heading to a cupboard next to the door. She returned shortly after, holding a golden pendulum and a small silver bell in her hands. 

“Mr. Tozier, I’m afraid I require something like a photograph or at least the names written down on a piece of paper,” she said. Richie fumbled a bit around his pockets before pulling out his wallet and handing her a folded photograph of the Losers at his wedding. He got a bit red around his nose when Bill cooed a bit mockingly at the photograph and the fact that he always carried it with him. The older woman took it and held it between her thumb and index finger, precisely covering Richie’s face.

“Don’t worry, dear, you will get it back soon enough. Turn around to me now so you’re facing me properly,” Madame Maggie now said to Bill, holding the pendulum up between them with one hand and the photograph in the other, “And concentrate on my voice. Only my voice, the pendulum and the faces on the photograph.”

Her voice slowed when she gave the instructions. Her tone was softer than before and deepened, the effect soothing both men. Richie slowly sank into his armchair again. 

“Yes, very good. You’re doing great, everything here is safe, calm, and peaceful.” 

Her pendulum swung from side to side, slow and steady just like her voice. 

“Let my words wash over you, let yourself sink into the couch. Listen to your body and my voice as you begin to feel calm.”

Bill really felt his limbs loosening and his mind going slightly numb. 

“Your eyes may feel too heavy and you may want to close them. Do not close them, concentrate on the picture and the faces. Rest your eyes on them. Take them in. Breathe in deeply now, fill your chest and lungs,” she took in a deep breath as well and let the air slip out again as she spoke, “Then slowly let the air out of your chest, completely emptying your lungs.”

“Take the first step down and feel yourself sinking deeper into relaxation. Who do these faces belong to? You seem to know their faces, but their names you have forgotten. Each step is a step further into oblivion. You step down the second step and feel yourself getting calmer and calmer. Who are these people, have you seen them before? You don’t think so. When you reach the third step, you only see strangers and your mind feels as if it is _ floating _ blissfully away…”

Richie startled at the words but Bill was too far away and merely nodded, his gaze glued to the photograph in front of him, never blinking. Madame Maggie nodded slowly along with him, mirroring his actions. Or was he mirroring hers? Then she let out another deep breath. She told Bill to concentrate on the pendulum again and his eyes immediately caught the golden swinging thing. She put the picture on the table and carefully took the bell instead.

“I'm now going to count from one to five and then sound the bell. At the chiming of the bell you will be feeling wide awake, fully alert and completely refreshed.”

She counted and gently sound the bell and Bill woke with a start. Richie had followed the scene with fascination and was now clapping his hands slowly but excitedly, “That was _ wicked _.”

“Oh really? It was merely a bit of hypnotism. Of course not the easiest kind, but still,” Madame Maggie waved her hand around at the sound of awe in Richie’s voice.

“No, really, Madame, I think I want to become a psychic now,” he said, still with a glint of evil in his eyes.

“Oh hush,” the older woman smiled indulgently at him, then turned to Bill, “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Actually, I’m feeling quite well, thanks,” Bill shook his head lightly, “W-what happened? I seem to have z-zoned out the last couple of minutes.”

“Oh, you missed nothing important, Bill!” Richie lied without blinking an eye, “Just a bit of relaxing _ meditation _! Come on, grab your stuff, you promised me to get wasted!”

“I did?” Bill didn’t sound too convinced, but he shrugged, got up and grabbed his coat nonetheless. This time Victor let him go, although his feline gaze followed his motions like he was eyeing an especially tasty kind of prey. Bill turned to Madame Maggie and said his goodbye. The older woman gently shook his hand and wished him the best for the future, then proceeded to do the same with Richie while slipping him the little silver bell.

“Here, you can take it with you. If anything happens you can break the hypnosis by ringing the bell. Good luck to you and have a nice evening. You’re both such charming young men!” 

Richie positively beamed and kissed her hand flirtatiously, “Oh Madame, you flatter me. If only I wasn’t married!”

Then he followed his friend out of the heavily decorated room, through the narrow corridor back to the streets where they had come from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and stay tuned for the next two chapters of <strike>insanity</strike> I mean cute drunk flirting and proper wedding night smut!


	2. Now Back At Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill spots this ultra hot guy in the bar and decides to flirt with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bill likes turtles, thinks Mike is a wizard and there’s bad flirting.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, real life gets in the way sometimes ;w;

They had a good thing going, if Richie was allowed to say so himself. Of course it was a great evening: after all it was Richie’s job to turn Bill's last single night into a complete success. So he did what any good best man would do in his place: send the future husband to a fortune teller, hypnotize him, and bring him home blackout drunk at the end of the night.

Wait. 

Well, the _drunk_ part had gone quite well. He himself didn’t have as much - a bit less at least. He had to make sure that Big Bill, his best friend in the whole wide world, later got into his (preferably) own bed safe and sound, after all.

But until then the street was their home and the sky the roof over their heads, like real men would say (_would they though?_). And the good friend he was, Richie had taken Bill’s arm – “no homo" (Bill only rolled his eyes at him disbelievingly) – because the latter had already started staggering quite a lot. They stumbled through the nocturnal streets, hitting a few bars along the way. The mild air quickly filled up with the smell of sweat and cheap beer whenever they got too close to one of the entrances.

But that didn’t bother them that much. Richie kept making bad jokes and Bill - dubiously - laughed every time, stumbling while giggling. The time hadn’t been on their radar for quite some hours. The last time Bill asked Richie what time it was, he just replied, “Who cares, we've got all night _(not really)_ and our legs that carry us safely where we want to go _(very questionable)_ and beautiful women waiting for us _(most unlikely, the only woman after all that Richie ever_ met,_ according to some unreliable sources, was Eddie's mother_).” 

However, this response seemed to have satisfied Bill, who focused on a shop window, while Richie kept skipping ahead at first, not noticing his friend’s delay. Bill on the other hand kept looking into the shop. In the window laid a bicycle horn in the form of an animal. 

“Oh shit, is that a _turtle?!”_ Bill looked as if Christmas had come early and excitedly pressed his nose against the glass of the front door, where a _closed_ sign prominently blocked their view inside.

“Oh yeah, that’s absolutely a turtle! Or is it a tortoise? I never seem to remember,” Richie peered over his shoulder.

“N-no, it’s definitely a turtle. Maaan, I love turtles. They’re so cool. I wish this shop was open so I could buy it for my b-bike...” he sighed and turned away to stroll to the next window. Richie pulled him back by the neck and Bill squeaked.

“I’m gonna take a picture for you so you can come back tomorrow or on Monday, eh, Billy?” He whipped his phone out of his pocket, more enthusiastically than necessary. Then he proceeded to try to open his camera and said “Say cheese, little turtle” before he took an inappropriate _and_ unneeded amount of undoubtedly blurry pictures. Bill looked at him open-mouthed and said “Thank you, Rich” with the most honest voice that only children or drunk people were able to produce. Richie, on the other hand, wore the smug expression that was mostly only seen on cats when they’d managed to catch a particularly fat rat. Or on idiots.

“Looks like you’re not the only smart one tonight - I’m somewhat of a genius myself, Boy Wonder Billy! Oh _shoot,_ that should be your superhero name. Such a _cool_ name, eh? And your logo could be a turtle! Like the Ninja Turtles, but _cooler.”_

Bill frowned in deep confusion, trying to understand the correlation between him, heroes and turtles - a fruitless undertaking. “Why should I be a superhero? I’m an author! And the Ninja Turtles _are_ cool.”

“I know you’re an author, Billy. I was just- Ew, is it raining ? Why is it raining?” 

Indeed, a soft drizzle fell from the blackened sky and wetted the street below them.

Bill tilted his head and said, “I actually think it’s quite nice. F-feels pretty soothing on your face, don’t y’think?”

“Well too bad I don’t want you to be calm and soothed tonight - I want you to party. At this point you’re gonna sober up and I’m not gonna stand by and watch all my hard work be washed away by the rain!” Richie exclaimed dramatically, “Also I don’t want to get wet.”

“Why, you made out of sugar?”

“Why yes, honey, everybody knows I have a sweet bod!” Richie slapped his own butt and winked overly suggestive at Bill. Then he made his way down the street, pulling his giggling friend along with him.

They paused in front of a small window and looked right into an old-school Irish pub that had two jukebox machines standing in the corners of the room. The bar's name shone in through the misty rain in lime green neon lights. Big cursive letters that weren't rhythmically flashing read _A Sunday in August_, Bill noted and sighed gratefully. Even if it wasn’t a Sunday in August.

He had felt a headache coming on since they left that slightly shady gay club earlier. Even though the booze had been good, as had been the sweet, frilly cocktails, there were things more desirable than being groped by strange men in tight shirts. Not that he didn’t appreciate the attention - it’s just he preferred his personal space not to be invaded that violently, thank you very much.

Bill refocused on the bar in front of them. “Who the hell even needs two jukeboxes in one bar?”

Richie laughed in response. "Either very musical or very tone-deaf people. C'mon, this is the place, this is the time. Also, I need to use the bathroom." Richie slapped on a cocky grin, smoothed back his hair and strutted right in like he owned the place. Bill followed a lot less graceful.

They stepped through the narrow entrance into the bar. After the cold and moisture of the rain they both had become a bit chilly, so the heat that welcomed them when they came in, though a bit suffocating at first, wasn’t entirely terrible.

Voices rose dimly around them, competing with the surprisingly dulcet tones of the jukeboxes. Against all belief, the two melodies competing didn’t sound all that terrible. Bill made out one of the melodies. It was some old love song from the fifties or early sixties maybe, a singer that his mum used to listen to. The lush melody rose above the surrounding conversations. He stood and listened until Richie turned to him, clapped him on the shoulder and told him to get them a table and something nice to drink.

Bill saw his friend vanish in the back of the room and took a seat in the middle of a stretch of open stools at the bar. The surface of it was polished but marked by the years - more likely decades - of use and the careless customers that came with them. He could make out little hearts with a name or nearly undecipherable letters amongst the engravings.

“Cute, aren’t they? The little hearts?” The bartender, a woman with curly black hair and a shockingly red headband smiled invitingly at him. “What can I do for you, love?”

Bill put money on the bar before ordering two beers. She took the money and promptly started to tap the first one, all the while her big golden hoop earrings reflected the dim light and jingled happily. The jingling reminded him of something, but before he could make out what it was, she put his order in front of him. Bill took the glasses with a quick smile in thanks and made his way to the back of the room.

And that was when he saw him.

A man was sitting at a table right near the second jukebox, nursing a drink. His dark skin and short hair had a golden sheen to them in the light of the bar. Even sitting down, Bill could see that he was tall, at least much taller than him. Looking down at his phone, the stranger suddenly smiled; a smile that left such an open and kind expression on his face. Bill knew instantly, were this man to demand the moon, he would begin to build a ladder right this moment, only to see that smile again. His entire being was so painfully familiar and inviting to Bill that he didn’t even notice he had been standing and staring for a long - unquestionably too long - span of time. He cleared his throat, hoping to chase this weird sense of longing away, but only manages to draw the attention of the stranger on him.

They made eye contact across the dim room. It drowned out countless other undoubtedly interesting conversations, but nothing seemed more important than his eyes on him right now. 

Bill hoped desperately that the handsome stranger was on his own.

His feet carried him closer to the table where he sat almost automatically. The man quirked up his lip and then waved - was that meant for him? He looked around, but no one reacted to it. Bill started panicking a bit - in a good way - and decided to swallow his giddiness.

Normally Bill could be very suave. He wasn’t a writer for nothing - for God’s sake, he should know how to make someone swoon with the power of words alone and sometimes he actually could. But of course, now that he needed something – something great, because well, just _look_ at this man – nothing came to his mind except things that were _entirely_ unhelpful.

Things like…

“Is your name Google?” Bill said, desperately praying that his voice wouldn’t betray him and managed a loopy grin, “Because you seem to have everything I’ve been searching for.”

He dropped a wink in there somewhere and the man looked confused for a second before letting out a low huff of laughter. 

“No, I’m Mike, Bill.”

* * *

Mike noticed him the moment he looked up. It was almost impossible not to notice Bill standing in the middle of the old bar, blocking everyone's way and staring in Mike's general direction in wonder. Mike grinned and waved at him and only got a bright red blush and baffled face back, which in return confused him greatly. Bill was obviously more drunk than he seemed - and he _seemed_ quite drunk. This theory was proven when he came over and hit on him. 

By the way with the most stupid pick up line Mike had ever heard. 

In fact so stupid that Mike could only laugh and reply, “No, I'm Mike, Bill.”

“How do you know my name? Are you a-a wizard?” The last word was whisper-shouted as if to keep Mike’s potential identity secret. Bill’s cheeks were bright red; his lips were slightly parted and his eyes were practically glued to Mike’s face. Frankly, it was adorable. But Mike was a bit concerned, since Bill's behavior insistently told Mike that he a) was too drunk to remember him, b) was being funny pretending not to notice him or c) God forbid, really didn't remember him. For his heart's sake and Bill's twinkling eyes, he decided to go with option b) and decided to play along.

“And if I were a wizard, what would you do then, Bill, hm?”

His forgetful and/or playful fiancé seemed to ponder about that really hard. Then he replied, “Y’know, there’s this really nice turtle horn that I saw in a shop today. But the shop was already closed. I’d wish you’d wizard the shop to be open again, so I can buy it. It’s so cool, y’should see it!” Unsteadily he placed his hand on Mike’s arm and fiddled with his sleeve. “Richie, a friend of mine, you probs know him too since you’re a wizard, took photos. Remind me to remind him to show them to you,” he seemed very proud of himself to have said the sentence correctly. Mike grinned. He really shouldn't condone alcohol abuse let alone by his soon-to-be husband, but loopy drunk Bill was one of his favorites. He was clingy and giggly and stumbled over his words and feet alike. Overall just a darling angel child. His grin was appreciatively watched by said angel child.

“You know, you got a smile so bright, you could've been a candle."

Mike’s eyebrows went up and he laughed out loud. “Well, thank you, Bill. Being a candle is all I’ve ever dreamed about.”

“They must be quite handy for your witchy rituals. There’s a lot of candles isn’t there? Black ones. Ohhh, I have to write a book about _witches_ next. And you're gonna be the main character. A male witch. Good idea,” he nodded along to his impeccable reasoning. Mike wanted to just grab and kiss him, but he liked this new persona of a strange male witch. So he leaned in, mirroring Bill.

“Hey baby, are you a good book? Because once I pick you up, I won't be able to put you down.”

Bill who just took a sip of his beer sputtered and went completely red. “Why would you say that, I’m supposed to woo you!”

“Woo me with pick-up lines?”

Bill looked sheepish, “Well, yeah... Is it working?”

“Oh, absolutely. Never heard worse ones and that’s a gift I can’t possibly miss.”

Bill smiled a genuinely sweet smile and only briefly met his eyes before concentrating on the glass in front of him again. Then he abruptly stood up, though not without swaying a little. “Also, music. There’s those jukeboxes. You wanna play some songs? Maybe there are some about magic or is that too obvious?”

“Oh not at all, I’m not here incognito.”

“Then that’s all right, come along, Mikey.”

Mike’s grin softened at the endearment. It sounded sappy and yes, it totally was, but his heart still leapt in his chest whenever Bill called him that.

They made their way to the second Jukebox and, not for the first time, he wondered why it took Eddie and Richie so long to show up again - they’d probably met and were now snogging in the bathroom. 

Maybe Richie counted on him to have an eye on Bill and to get him home safely - because he most _definitely_ needed overseeing. Right now he was skipping happily to the machine and was completely taken in by the engravings, then browsing through the songs available. He still read much faster than Mike but mouthed the words silently whenever stumbling across a long or complicated word. Then he turned around to Mike - too fast - and gripped the other man’s hips to steady himself. He giggled happily when Mike's hand automatically shot up to cradle his back.

“Can I go first, Mr. Wizard?” He asked and batted his lashes quite exaggeratedly. And Mike, the gentleman he was, of course let him. A vinyl out of the middle was taken by the metal arm of the machine and when the needle of the turntable connected to the black disc, an upbeat tune began to play. Bill happily bobbed his head to the beat and stretched his arms out to Mike, gesturing him silently to dance with him. Mike indulged him.

How could he not?

It was a nice song.

It was a song which lyrics entirely consisted of pick-up lines. _Jesus._

Oh, he was smitten, dancing around in a tiny circle with an absolutely trashed Bill swaying in his arms, swaying not necessarily in the sexy way. Said man did his best to sing the lines as precisely as they came to him and was admittedly doing an alright job. At this moment he sang “_As pretty as you are – hoo hoo – You know you could have been a flower!_” while winking at Mike. With both eyes. Mike laughed. Bill didn’t show any embarrassment and simply went on, “_If good looks was a minute, you know that you could be an hour-_”

Too bad for those married idiots in the bathroom that they weren’t here right now; they could have filmed it as blackmailing material to take the best man speech to a whole new level. 

On one hand he still was kind of self-conscious about dancing around like a big buffoon - a few people around them had started giggling at them already. On the other hand however, he really liked having a stumbling Bill in his arms. And when said man started the recording machine again and sang along, even more accurately than the first time, he guessed he could bear dancing with him to his new favorite song.

Some couple at the table next to them started making kissy faces at them during the second verse and Bill went as red as a tomato and started tittering madly. Mike followed his gaze and said humorously, “I don’t suppose you also have a pick-up line for that?”

“For kissing? Absolutely I do,” Bill stopped giggling like a maniac and recited, “Hey. Your lips look lonely, would they like to meet mine?”

Mike started laughing and Bill smiled sheepishly, “Oh, or h-how about: Let me punch you in the mouth, with my mouth, really softly, because I like you."

He said that while looking directly at Mike, the pupils of his eyes blown wide, almost swallowing the blue color. The last bit was spoken so quietly and honestly that it made Mike’s breath catch.

He didn’t really care about the game they were playing anymore. Instead he gently tugged Bill up by the back of the neck and kissed him. Bill let out a quiet sigh when their lips touched and responded very much appreciatively. He felt so warm against Mike, tasting of beer and something sweet that he can’t place. Light fingers gripped into the hair on his nape, like they almost always did and he shuddered involuntarily. But before they became too indecent, the need of air separated them. Bill had his eyes closed still, but when he looked up to Mike he practically beamed.

* * *

“Did you sit in sugar? Because you have a _sweet_ ass.”

Eddie turned around at the sound of that voice. He would have recognized it anywhere and it always gave him the urge to roll his eyes shoot through the roof. Luckily for the man in front of him, it also made his pulse shoot through the roof (_he would have to see a doctor about that, Eddie guessed_).

“Did your pick-up lines ever actually work on anyone?” He said with arched eyebrows, clearly trying to contain his amusement and an aggravated sigh. A combination only Richie could manage to inflict upon him.

Richie made a face like he was genuinely considering the question. “Well, worked on my husband, I guess.”

“He sounds like a damn fool.”

Richie grinned. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, what the hell was he thinking when letting a guy like you out of his sight?”

“So you think I’m that desirable? I feel honored!”

“I’m rather implying you’re a safety hazard that should come with a leash or at least a warning.”

Despite his words Eddie leant forward and tugged at Richie’s collared shirt, signaling him to lean down. The other man happily complied and got a quick peck as thank you. But Richie wasn’t a man to be satisfied that easily. So he swept Eddie up, kissing him much more thoroughly. When they’d parted Eddie looked flushed for a moment, then pursed his lips as though he remembered something.

“Is Bill also here? You think the two met already?”

Richie grinned and opened his mouth to say something, then his face went slack and he looked like a thought had hit him like a truck. “Oh f-”, a pointed look from Eddie let him reconsider, “fiddlesticks. Oh, come on Eds, it’s a bar not a playground!”

Said man wasn’t impressed, especially not when Richie smacked his own forehead a second later. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? You went white as paper when I mentioned Bill and Mike.”

“Nope, nothing weird’s happening here,” Richie said, now rubbing the red mark his hand left, “Just overcome with surprise to meet my dearest hubby Eddard in this lovely establishment.”

“So there _is_ something going on!” Eddie exclaimed; Richie avoided to meet his eyes, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Richard Tozier. You tell me this instant or-”

“Well, maybe, I’m not saying I did, but perhaps I’ve taken Bill to a fortune teller?”

“Go on.”

“And she maybe, well, you know,” Richie noticeably grew smaller under the look his husband gave him, “Altered his memories a bit?”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean, Richard?”

“Oh, I don’t know how she’s done it, but she offered to take things off his mind, apparently quite literally… Well, long story short, he was going on about wanting to go home, so she hypnotized him to forget Mike and have a nice evening.”

Eddie shot him a more than pointed look. “And you thought this was a brilliant idea, did you now?”

“Um, at the time yes?” He raked his hand through his hair, then giggled. “I just didn’t think we’d meet you two and Bill was gonna hit on his own fiancé! Although they certainly look as if they’re enjoying themselves, hogging the jukebox and all that.”

“God, Richie, you’re such a goddamn imbecile sometimes!” Eddie threw his hands up, “We need to sort this out. How didn’t Mike notice? He wasn’t that drunk when I left him!”

“Maybe he just thinks Bill’s out of it? Or they’re, y’know, _roleplaying-_ ow!” Eddie swatted his arm. “You know, I probably deserved that. Even if you remind me of your mom when you do that.”

Eddie swatted him again. “That makes me question if you knew my mother at all.”

“Oh, I knew her. Intimately. Ouch!”

Eddie grabbed his arms and dragged him over to Bill and Mike, who were still standing beside the jukeboxes, while muttering about incompetent husbands and probably divorce. Bill noticed him and Richie a few meters away and waved excitedly at Richie.

“Hey man, where have you been? Did you also meet someone?” A glance to Eddie, “Because _I met someone_!” he whisper-shouted, pointing very non-discreetly at Mike. “He’s a _wizard!”_

“See, I told you they were roleplaying!” Richie whispered and Eddie chose to deliberately ignore him.

“Billy Boy, what makes you think such things?” Richie slung his arms around him and grinned when Bill told him Mike knew his name, _just like_ _a magician does_. Richie turned to Mike, “Lay it on me, man. What’s my name?”

Mike started to think he just didn’t get the joke. Was this what it was like being old and out of touch? 

“Um, you’re Richie?”

“Woah, so cool!” Bill said and Eddie started massaging his temples. With a quick look to the tables next to them he suggested, “Maybe we should take this outside?”

They did. Standing on the sidewalk, the cool air seemed to do some good to Bill, who didn’t trip as much as he did before. Still Mike had one arm around him, just in case. The smaller man didn’t seem to mind at all. On the contrary, he soaked up his attention like a sponge and from time to time pressed a few kisses wherever he could reach. Richie and Eddie looked at them with barely concealed amusement.

“You’re so disgustingly cute, you guys should get married,” Richie quipped.

Bill beamed at Mike, who if he wasn’t a goner before he definitely would be now. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Sure thing, Bill, when do you wanna get married? Today?”

“Tomorrow maybe? I’m free, y’know?”

“Oh, are you now?” Now he was confused again. Only slightly. Eddie sighed and drew him to the side a bit, leaving a whining Bill with Richie.

“Mike, you probably noticed that Bill’s kinda weird?” Mike nodded slowly. “Well, I’ll make it short, Richie was an idiot, made some poor woman hypnotize Bill and now he can’t remember you nor me properly.”

Mike stared at him for a while. 

“What?” he said finally.

Eddie started grinning at the sheer stupidity of that story. “Well, someone hypnotized-”

“No, no, I get it. But how’s that even possible? Will it pass? How long is he going to be like that then?”

“Well, Richie said it was to wear off just in a few hours,” Eddie paused, then grinned again. “You two seem to get on well enough, Mike. I suggest you get the poor man home.”

Mike carded his hand through his hair. This. This was – Bill had gotten rid of Richie and skipped over to him, only a bit uncoordinated and smiled sweetly – maybe not too bad, decided Mike. Bill was still very Bill, only a lot more drunk than the usual version. He sighed and turned towards their best men, pointing at Bill. “There is going to be payback, Tozier.”

“Oh no!” Richie jumped and attempted to take cover behind Eddie, who rolled his eyes. Mike grinned and looked at Bill who had begun to kiss his hand. “Ok then, let’s get this man to his bed. Get home safely, you two. No detour to shady women hypnotizing people.”

They hugged and parted. Bill started talking about everything and nothing while they were walking through the streets back home. He then stopped at a window, where he pointed at a horn that looked like a turtle and started gushing about it. Mike only got him to leave after promising that they would visit the shop as soon as possible when it opened again. As thanks Bill jumped at Mike who caught him at the last second and kissed him.

“You two are very sweet, but you’re blocking the sidewalk,” a man snapped and when they separated to let him through, Bill looked very upset. Mike grinned and took his hand.

“C’mon, Bill. You can tell me on the way home.”

Bill’s face lit up. “Ohhh, you gonna take me to bed?”

Mike snorted, he had rarely heard him be so suggestive and it was quite fun.

* * *

Once they got home Bill nearly feel asleep on the couch the moment Mike took off his shoes for him. As he opened his eyes again, he frowned and rubbed at his temples.

“Ugh, Mikey, I feel like I got hit by a car.”

Mike looked up and grinned. “Oh, Bill. There you are again. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Bill thought about that for a second, then nodded slowly. “Oh God, I’ve really made a fool of myself, haven’t I?”

Mike laughed. “I found it quite endearing if I’m honest with you, my love.”

His love groaned, but let himself be pulled up and led to the bedroom. It seemed that the world outside was getting brighter with each passing minute. He wanted the night back very badly. “I kind of don’t want to hear about it. What time do we have to get up?”

Mike stroked his hair as they lay down. “Not that soon, I’ve set the alarm, don’t worry.”

“I suppose we should get our beauty sleep then. Well, I should. You on the other hand always look stunning.”

The taller man laughed. “Still flirty, aren’t you? Well, you’re also nearly perfect to me.”

“Nearly?”

“If there was one thing I could change about you, it would be your last name- ”

“Oh shut up,” Bill said as he closed his eyes. After a moment he smiled. 

“That can be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next round: Wedding smut!


End file.
